


Like Oceans Between

by SoulJelly



Category: Code Lyoko
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Episode Tag, Female Character of Color, Female Friendship, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 17:51:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13195395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoulJelly/pseuds/SoulJelly
Summary: Sam, Tamiya, and a brief conversation about messing up. [Episode tag for #65, Final Round]





	Like Oceans Between

 

There’s something almost melodic in the scrape of skateboard wheels on tarmac, something that, Sam thinks, if she really tries, could lull her into a dream of being somewhere else.

Maybe then she can attribute the lead weight in her stomach to the sensation of falling, the tangle of her hair to the salt breeze on the coast, far away from here and from the ache to undo a day she wishes hadn’t happened. Then she closes her eyes and the space behind them fills up with Odd’s disappointed expression, the thin line of his mouth and sad bright eyes that will be the last she sees of him forever, and when Sam loses control of her board and topples gracelessly onto the pavement, she doesn’t even bother to get up.

Palms stinging, she rolls onto her back and stares up at a cloudless sky. The pain comes in a sharp relentless sting that presently resides to ebbs and flows, in tandem with her breathing. Sharp inhale. Slow exhale. The sky is so clear and blue that it sucks up all concept of time. Sam lies there, waiting.

It can only be moments before she becomes aware of the sound of crying; scratchy muffled sobs that she realises in hindsight have been happening for some time. Sam presses a hand to her own lids for one confused moment, but finds them still dry, then blinks as a face appears above hers, casting her in shadow.

“Are you okay?” asks the girl. She is maybe twelve or thirteen, black hair in cornrows, sleeve clenched in her fist as she uses it to rub her tear-stained face. The tremble in her voice makes Sam’s heart ache. A sudden, clear reminder that she isn’t the only person in the world capable of sadness.

Sam sits up. She ignores the dull ache that creeps along her muscles, the beginnings of bruises on her elbows and knees, accepts the small hand that reaches out to her and helps pull her to her feet. “Are _you_?” Sam asks the girl.

“I saw you fall-“

“I heard you crying-“ 

Their voices overlap almost in unison and when they smile at each other it’s like sunlight breaking on water, laughter rippling the surface of things and warming them both from the outside in.

“Come on,” says Sam, generously, and guides her to sit on the pavement, where they rest their backs against the chain link fence that closes Kadic off from the world and fold their chins into their palms. They swap names – _Sam, Tamiya, nice to meet you_ – and watch the world go by for a minute.

“Are you really okay though?” asks Tamiya. “That looked like a bad fall.”

Sam shrugs. “Believe me, I’ve had worse.”

“You must have been at the big skate competition at school, right?”

“You got it.”

Tamiya’s eyes are wide as she looks at her. “Then that must be your trophy I saw over there, thrown in the bushes.”

Sam examines her palms, presses her lips to the raw pink skin and licks away a thin line of blood. “I don’t want it,” she says at last. “It’s not really mine.”

It’s partly true; if Odd had stayed until the end, his chances of winning were just as good as hers. A wave of guilt rises up again. She wishes she could cry as easily as the small girl next to her, as though that would help her to feel any less helpless. Sam feels Tamiya’s eyes on her. She’s staring at her as though throwing away a trophy is the most ludicrous thing in the world, although maybe she’s also taking in Sam’s red-streaked hair and tight shirt and the rectangular outline of the cigarettes in her skirt pocket. Sam makes a face.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “Just believe me when I say I don’t want it, okay? It’s just a stupid reminder that I was a jerk to a friend.”

Tamiya shrugs. “I can relate to that.”

“Yeah?” Sam turns to her. “What’s up with you, anyway? Why were you crying just now?”

“I’m fine.” As though to underscore how greatly untrue this is, Tamiya sniffs loudly. Her eyes are still red-rimmed, the fabric of her sleeves crumpled and damp from rubbing them. “Except my best friend hates me and our newspaper is ruined and everything is a mess and-“

She’s crying again, turning reflexively into the awkward tilt of Sam’s shoulder, who pats her back in stilted motions as Tamiya chokes out the whole tale. 

“She’s just so _frustrating_ sometimes,” Tamiya finishes at last, heaving a sigh and pulling away, Sam’s hand still light on her arm. “It’s like she just doesn’t care what I think and she gets way in over her head with stuff that isn’t important. Like I’m always there for her, but I just don’t matter as much as whatever stupid plan she has at the time.”

Sam nods thoughtfully.

“Today, with the friend I let down? I wanted to hang out with him, so I didn’t pass on a message that his friend told him to go someplace, or something.”

Tamiya sniffles and nods.

“But,” Sam continues, “I can’t explain it, but when I looked at him it was like we were on completely different planes of existence. Like he was halfway across the world thinking about something else. Spending my last day hanging out with him was the most important thing in the world to me, but this thing was “even more important”, whatever it was. He just looked so upset with me.” 

“That sucks.” 

“I was mad at first,” Sam said. “Like, typical boys, you know? I thought this one was different. Then I was mad at myself for getting so hung up on it.”

“You shouldn’t be. Sounds like he was a jerk, running off for no reason.”

“Maybe,” said Sam. “Then I thought about it, and if it was that important, I thought maybe I should trust him.” Tamiya’s story has cleared a path through her own thoughts and her chest feels light with a sudden sense of clarity. “As for Milly, she might not always have the right idea, but maybe she _thinks_ she’s doing the right thing. It sounds like she really cares about you.” 

Tamiya wriggles uncomfortably as a slight flush paints her cheeks. “She has done an awful lot for me,” she says, slowly.

“There you go,” says Sam. Playfully, she nudges Tamiya’s shoulder. “And then sometimes your friend is just being a spoilt brat and needs you to tell her that.”

Tamiya laughs again and it’s a pleasant sound, even rung from a scratchy, tear-strained throat.

A faint bell rings somewhere in the school grounds. Tamiya gasps, leaping to her feet.

“That’s the dinner bell. I should go.” She turns to Sam, who is still seated. “Thanks Sam, you really helped to cheer me up.”

“No problem kid. You too.”

Tamiya smiles shyly. “Hey, you know,” she says, “the trophy is really cool. You should keep it. Maybe as a reminder that today wasn’t a totally bad day.”

Sam pretends to think about it. “You should remember it like that, too. I hope you and your friend work things out.”

Although Tamiya doesn’t believe it, because every time is the last time and she is _done_ with Milly and their friendship is so totally _over_ , in two days they’ll be giggling and bickering about something else. 

It will take Sam a while longer after she leaves, a few melancholy weeks and a couple of half-written letters, and the fact that Odd writes back at all, three-quarters of a paw-print stamped page in a messy scrawl.

But the air on the coast is nice, and she is content in the knowledge of her own importance, and she hopes Odd is making good choices, wherever he is.


End file.
